


Puppies

by JackyM



Category: Welcome to Night Vale, wtnv
Genre: Episode Style, M/M, PUPPY INFESTATIONNNNN, Pups, all of the pups! :D, cecilos - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 08:13:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3888949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyM/pseuds/JackyM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Puppies have invaded the corporate office of Shriek-Tronic. Episode-style format, with added Cecilos for your Cecilos needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppies

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on Tumblr, but I also wanted to post it here since I am rather fond of it and also because it's rather long and I make a point to post my longer things here! owo
> 
> This is my first time writing something in episode-style format; it was so much fun! I loved writing Cecil's narration style, it really is so much fun!
> 
> You can follow me at hushpupper.tumblr.com, where I post ficlets quite often! >wO

The optimist sees the glass as half full. The pessimist sees the glass as half empty. The realist sees the glass and its equally insignificant existence, or lack thereof. The nihilist sees the glass as not a glass at all, but a gaping hole of rapidly expanding entropy that will bring the world around it to a certain doom, a doom we are all meant to share.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Listeners, I have some urgent news from the City Council. There has been a recent puppy infestation at Shriek-Tronic’s corporate office, and for this reason, all earthquakes today have been cancelled. The City Council has apologized in advance for any inconveniences caused by earthquake cancellations. They’ve stated that they had no other choice, and that it was all that could be done with an already far more pressing matter on their hands. Now, look, I’m just as annoyed at the earthquake cancellations as you probably are. I’m definitely sitting here thinking, oh, darn, I really would’ve liked an earthquake today! Where’s my City Council-mandated earthquake? I pay my taxes, I deserve to have my earthquakes when I need them! But the City Council has made an announcement that this day should be used to accomplish things we would ordinarily use earthquakes for without earthquakes. For example, that mail you’ve been meaning to take out of your mailbox, the mail you shouldn’t pick up without an earthquake going on because the envelope would otherwise burst into flames, the envelope you were supposed to open last month but kept forgetting to get during every City Council-provided earthquake? Go get that mail! Or maybe go sweep that dusty corner of your home, that one that you’re always forgetting to sweep because of the loud whispers you keep hearing that keep telling you not to get any closer, don’t get any closer, they will crawl into your mind and consume your very conscience if you get any closer, do not sweep this area. Go sweep that corner! The day is earthquake free, listeners! Go do all of those earthquake-required things without an earthquake at all!

And now, a word from our sponsors.

Cold. Freezing, cold. Everything around you is freezing cold. You shiver, and you wrap your arms around yourself in a desperate attempt to warm yourself, but you know it is no good. You can feel the cold pressing against your skin, threatening to push past it. You can feel it slowly seeping in past every layer of your feeble flesh, pushing into you as you begin to breathe ever so quickly. You feel the cold begin to drip into layers past your flesh. The cold is everywhere now. You cannot breathe. The temperature has crawled into every inch of your body, the smallest parts of it now consumed by the raging feeling of ice developing where your blood once ran. You stop breathing. Your eyes are wide. Your breath is short. Your lips are blue, pale, two protrusions of flesh hardened like stone by the cold. You can see black. Then gray. Then black again. Then you see nothing. You feel nothing. You can only feel the cold.

Dairy Queen: Something different.

An update on the puppy situation. Apparently the influx of puppies began sometimes this morning and has not yet stopped. Animal Control has been called about the matter and they’ve said, “We’re going to do it, we’re just working on it, but haven’t quite figured out a way to work on it, so we’ll probably just sit around thinking about a way to work on it, maybe take an hour break from thinking about it, and then get back to thinking about it. Yeah, that’s what we’ll do. We’ll do that. That thing we just said we’d do, because we wanted to do it. Look, we’ll take care of it, okay? We’re going to do it,” they repeated, beginning to beat their knuckles repeatedly against the door and softly humming songs at varying pitches. I don’t know about you, listeners, but I really do hope they get the puppies out of there soon. I mean, they’re puppies. They deserve to be running around in the street and doing puppy things, like rolling in the sand or carrying government messages from building to building, not running around in a corporate office. According to Animal Control and reputable scientists on the scene right now investigating where they came from, there are lots of different puppies too. Oh my god, Carlos just texted me a picture of the puppies right now, and they are _adorable_. There’s this one puppy, with huge floppy ears and another one with the cutest little nose in the world, and there’s another one with _so much fluff_ and it is the _cutest little animal I have ever seen_. Oh, and, Carlos says he doesn’t know where the puppies came from, except that they came from somewhere, and that’s a scientific fact, not a random fact he pulled out of the air. Oh, oh my god, oh my god, he just sent me another picture, and this one is of a whole group of puppies running through the halls. They’re all so fluffy and oooh, oh my god, some of them are panting, with their little doggy tongues hanging out, all wagging their tails because they're so happy. I am seriously _so_ jealous of my boyfriend right now. Like, I never knew part of being a scientist meant getting to do science research on a puppy infestation. Not to imply, Night Vale, that I dislike my job here. I just really wish I was with Carlos right now, petting the–

Oh, dear. Station Management is making low-pitched growls and…thrashing about in its office. I think I heard some things break, and some appendages smacking against Station Management’s door, and…uh, how about we, um, how about we take a look at the Community Calendar?

Monday is Cell Awareness Day. Be aware of your cells. Be aware of every one of your cells and realize that nothing you do is actually something you are doing, so much as things you are doing. Be aware that your cells have all plotted against you and plan on killing you one day, as an act of revenge against your self-centered way of referring to your body. Be aware, very, very aware, of your cells, listeners. You never know when they’ll decide to rise up.

On Tuesday, there will be a beginner’s course to necromancy out behind the Ralph’s. It is suggested you bring with you a small child or a dying member of the family. You will be asked to kill them right on the spot and then commune with them moments afterwards. Remember the dead are not fans of any colors that you can see, and that the dead are also do not like it when you say things to them, look at them, listen to them, or even think about them. And also remember to ask about your dead grandfather. It’s been so long since he’s passed.

On Thursday night, remember that a house will randomly be warped to another point in space depending on the type of stone you received in your mailbox last week. If you have received a black stone with carvings of some ancient god across it, you are most likely safe, although your house may just disappear on its own. If you have received a white stone with the word “DISSONANCE” written in bright red ink, then your house will vanish this Thursday night, as per the City Council’s decision to bring down the number of houses in Night Vale, to avoid crowding up the neighborhoods.

Friday is not a day. Stop asking us about Friday. STOP ASKING US ABOUT FRIDAY. THERE IS NO SUCH DAY AS FRIDAY. THERE WILL NEVER BE A FRIDAY AND YOU ARE MISLED BY THOUGHTS GIVEN TO YOU BY THE MISINFORMED AND THE VILE. THERE IS NO FRIDAY.

This Sunday, there will be free pizza at Big Rico’s offered to nobody. Nobody at all. If you’re a nobody at all, stop on in for a slice of free pizza! People who do not exist, people who change between planes of existence and non-existence, and angels are especially invited to come over. Nobody does a slice like Big Rico’s. Nobody.

The puppy issue has gotten worse. The building is now full of puppies, crawling on top of each other and crowding the halls of the corporate office of Shriek-Tronic. Nobody who has entered is able to leave due to the amount of puppies crowding the office. I’ve been texting Carlos and Intern Kelly, and though Kelly has not yet responded, Carlos has said that he’d been trying to get out of the office before it gets any worse. He has told me that he has done some scientific experiments on the dogs, and told me that they all came from one dog, and they have undergone some kind of mass reproduction. That’s still so cute. They are all cute a replicate and make more of themselves! They’re like, a puppy virus! That is the cutest kind of virus I can think of. Pretty much the opposite of what a virus is supposed to do, right? Like, instead of planting alien genes into our cells and replicating, the puppies are planting happiness into our hearts and replicating! Aww, that is just so cute. Animal Control has been trying to round up the dogs to get them out of the office, but their constant replication is making it difficult. Apparently, there have been multiple puppies spotted that have been growing some kind of fangs, similar to that of a snake. It is unknown what these fangs do, but I highly doubt they do anything other than make these puppies look even more cute.

And now, traffic.

Lights. Lights are moving past your peripherals at unbelievable speeds, moving faster than your eyes can detect them, moving faster than your eyes can detect anything. The lights are of no color you can discern. They surround and envelop you as you desperately try to get away from them, desperately try to out-speed something you know is faster than you, faster than you can ever hope to be. You gasp as the numbers of lights grows exponentially, as the number of lights increases until you can see nothing but a blur of lights rushing past you as you sit in the same petrified position you were in when you first saw the lights now clouding your mind and sight with their colors and speed.

You blink, and the lights are gone. There is only darkness, and among the darkness, a putrid smell of decaying flesh and gasoline. Your eyes hurt. Your eyes burn. You can feel a liquid dripping down your cheek; a slow-falling, viscous liquid you feel cling to your face as it continually leaks from your eyes. You rub your eyes and hear a resounding squelch beneath your knuckles, as they press deep into sockets holding things that are no longer eyes, deep into sockets filled with old flesh now long worn out, flesh that serves no function but to fill the gap left in your eyes.

You do not think you are moving. You do not think you are still. You do not feel yourself in your car. You do not feel yourself out of your car. You cannot sense your hands on the wheel. You can sense your hands on the wheel.

Tears intermingle with the fluid on your face as you begin to cry hot tears of agony. You miss the colors.

This has been traffic.

A few of you have been writing in asking about the kittens of Khoshekh. Well, good news, listeners! Khoshekh's kittens are all almost grown up now. They've gotten much bigger, about double Khoshekh's size. They've finally grown into their big kitty spines, but they haven't quite managed to grow into their tendril hubs yet. They really are so adorable, with their oversized tendril hubs throwing off how they're floating in the bathroom at varying heights. It almost looks as though they're all suspended in the bathroom by their tails. Khoshekh is very proud of his litter, and has been purring up a storm ever since his kittens started meowing with him and causing power outages in the bathroom. If you are one of the owners of Khoshekh's kittens that hasn't yet been bitten by one of his kittens, you absolutely have to come visit them right now, they are the _absolute cutest_ , with their adorable glowing venom sacks and kitty spines and oversized tendril hubs. Who's my proud little kitty dad? Is it Khoshekh? Is it Khoshekh? I think it's Khoshekh!

And now, for Community Health Tips. Is your back feeling sore, listeners? Try removing your spine entirely! Just cut a deep hole along the edge of your back with a knife or some other kind of sharp instrument, make a few snips here and there with some scissors, and you’re good to go! Pull your spine out from its base and remove every vertebrae from where it stays connected to your back by tissue, and snip that tissue away bit by bit until you’ve finally removed your entire spine. Once you’ve successfully cut your spine off from your brain stem, sew your back up with a thick black thread and rub the thread down with cactus juice. Remember to place your spine into a pot of boiling water when you’re done removing it. Once your spine has boiled for about half an hour, take it out of the pot, smash it down, and consume it.

This has been Community Health Tips.

Listeners, the puppy situation is far worse than anyone could have thought. The puppies have all grown fangs and are beginning to spit a hot, green, viscous substance at people in the building. Animal Control has started pushing the puppies into crates, but they are expanding so rapidly it is beginning to look futile. Carlos has been texting me, and has told me not to worry, but he always tells me not to worry, and I mean, that's pretty difficult, given the constant terror we are under and the constant anxiety we have over our creeping death and pain in life. But I'll try not to, for his sake. The puppies have been firing the substance and its has made holes in the walls, which Shriek-Tronic says is leading to an estimated fifty-thousand dollars in repair costs. Animal Control has already lost three of its members to the green fluid being flung directly in their face by these puppies. Apparently, this substance will burn through a victim’s face and leave nothing but a gaping hole where the face once was. “These puppies,” Animal Control said, amongst the thousands of puppies now crawling over, under, and around them, “are dangerous, and not to be trusted. Do not trust these puppies. You can trust some puppies, but you cannot trust these puppies.” If these horrible creatures that would endanger the life of my boyfriend can even by called puppies. No, wait. Cecil, that isn’t fair. They’re just small dogs, after all. They don’t know what they’re doing. But, Carlos, does and…oh, oh no. Carlos says that one of them has spat the green substance at his arm. He says it has a burning sensation, like some kind of acid. He's taking a long time to respond to my texts. I am asking Carlos right now if he is okay, and if he still has his arm at all. He's not responding.

Listeners, I fear that...

Oh, wait.

He's texting back. Oh, thank the old gods, he's texting back.

He says he has to call me.

Listeners, I need to talk to him. Carlos’ life may be in danger because of them, and it is my job as a journalist to find out the extent to which current events have impacted the community, and furthermore, my job as his boyfriend to make sure he is okay.

While I call Carlos for what I hope is not the last time, I bring to you…the Weather.

* * *

 

Carlos is…okay, listeners. He was hit in the arm by a blot of that awful goop, but he’s fine. His arm is just a little burned, that’s all. He got out of the corporate office of Shriek-Tronic without any additional burns, and he has assured me, multiple times, that he will be fine, because he is a scientist. I suppose that goes to show everything, including his wonderful personality with all of its imperfections, aside from his arm, is intact. He's okay. He's going to be okay. I love him, so much. I don't know what I'd do if he were badly injured during the events of today, or worse. He is okay, and I am okay too.

The puppies have been successfully ousted from Shriek-Tronic. Animal Control rounded them up into a circle and chanted a prayer that made them all revert back to the one puppy that replicated itself and caused the mess. Although there was a lot of damage to the building, Animal Control shrugged it off and said, “yeah, it could’ve been worse. Couldn’t been worse. Could’ve been a lot worse, y’know? It can always be worse.” Shriek-Tronic is working on repairs, and the City Council has announced through a series of whistles and bird-like squawks performed while sprawling on the floor that the earthquakes will continue as regularly scheduled by tomorrow evening. Also, the Night Vale Animal Shelter has a new puppy up for adoption, and a new puppy with its replication and fang growing shots recently given. So, if you’re looking for a fluffy companion or an organ harvester, stop by the animal shelter and visit the little guy. Or, don’t, because that puppy is seriously so cute and I absolutely need to visit that puppy before someone adopts it, now that it can’t hurt anyone. Oh my god, its face is just so innocent and cute, I’m so glad Carlos sent me all those pictures of those puppies, I’m so going to upload all of them to Facebook and, oh my god, these puppies, they’re just the cutest things in the world.

Ahem.

However, I also come with some bad news. Intern Kelly suffered a severe launch of this substance directly in her face, and quite unfortunately, was killed before all of the puppies could be shooed out of the building by Animal Control. To the family of Intern Kelly, we apologize. She was a good intern. She was very dedicated to her work here, and will be missed.

It seems that the events of today did not come without some loss. The loss of an intern, and perhaps more tragically, the temporary loss of earthquakes and the loss of property for Shriek-Tronic. But perhaps loss is not to be seen as a loss. There are gains in losses. Gains of sadness, or gains of fear, or gains of anger. These gains perhaps make the loss even more unbearable. Loss sticks to us and throbs with great pressure and pain, and causes us to sometimes make decisions we would not ordinarily make if there were not such grievous losses clinging to our bodies like a tumorous growth. But once we have shed those growths from out bodies and looked at the pain we once endured or are perhaps still enduring from a loss, we ultimately realize that something has been learned from a situation. We learn that things can continue to occur, even when reality itself appears to be and usually is in any case, crumbling before our eyes and becoming a swirling mass of entropy we can never hope to understand.

We have learned today that we can go about our daily lives without earthquakes. We have learned today that scientists are indeed, usually fine. Shriek-Tronic has learned today that they need to make a policy for keeping pets out of their buildings, lest they experience more property damage. And Night Vale’s Animal Control has learned that dogs are in fact among the many mammalian species that can spit harmful substances from their mouths. Today was a day of learning, Night Vale. A day of learning that was not clouded by unthinkable truths that we cannot in our right minds handle or a day of learning plagued with blasphemous information. Today has been, simply, a day of learning. A day of learning through loss, and a day of learning through the pain we inevitably and infinitely feel.

Stay tuned next for three hours of a man screaming in sheer terror at different octaves in order to placate wishes he himself does not know, nor will ever know, he desires.

And goodnight, Night Vale.

Goodnight.


End file.
